Before Again
by marisa lee
Summary: "It's like we're living our childhood all over again. They're trying to slowly murder us from the inside out. Just like how they do it on the Sci-Fi network." My personal rendition of a PPGxRRB high school drama. [contest info inside chapter 5!]
1. Prologue: CityVille School for Boys

**Title: Before Again**

**Chapter One (Prologue): CityVille School for Boys**

**Rating: T for now, but will likely change to M later on.**

**Summary: What can I possibly say that'll make this sound unique? My personal rendition of a PPGxRRB high school drama.**

**Notes: The Girls and Boys all have normal features, and do not have superpowers in this story. You can probably expect an update at least every two weeks, if not more frequently.**

**Disclaimer: Craige McCracken is god.**

**A/N: It was peer pressure that drove me to write this. That and the fact that everybody tries to write a high school drama and it almost always fails most epically. I hope this doesn't. Thanks especially to my ever-faithful 'beta reader', Kelsi Lynne.**

**xoxo -ml**

* * *

**Prologue: CityVille School for Boys**

If you didn't count the constant detentions Butch earned because of his daily uniform code violations, or the fact that Boomer was constantly being pushed into the fountain in the courtyard by _someone_, or the hockey team that absolutely sucked without their star player who was out for three weeks due to a sprained wrist, CityVille School for Boys wasn't really all that bad.

"Hey Brick, toss me that pick, will ya?"

The Boys weren't the most popular kids in school. Far from it, actually. With such a small student body, it was pretty rare to be considered one of the "Elite" crew. But with an entirely male population, that wasn't really at the top of anyone's list. If anything was actually _on_ anyone's list, it was probably something material, like getting laid, making money, or reaching the last level of their favourite video game. That was one of the plus sides to living at an all-boys' school. No drama, just dudes.

Brick raised an eyebrow but did as he'd been asked. "I'm surprised you're even playing, Butch." He flipped through another photograph from the stack in his hands and observed it for a moment before flipping to the next one. The two of them lounged on the short brick wall that surrounded a large circular fountain in the courtyard, lazily waiting for school to begin again.

Brick _wasn't _captain of the hockey team. He actually played second bench, and worked his butt off at every practice to become the first. He almost never got any time on the ice, and if he did, it was due to some complaints by the team's mothers.

Butch snorted. "What, I can't play a few cords without getting judged?" He lowered the pick to the strings and strummed a long, beautiful note.

Butch was definitely _not _the fastest swimmer. He just might have been —save for a select few— the _worst_. He didn't try very hard to keep his reputation. He didn't have to. His reasoning behind even joining the team in the first place was because he wanted to maintain his "manly figure" and it sure as Hell beat running laps all the time—as would be the requirement for football or basketball.

"No, he's right," Boomer agreed, making his usual entrance on wheels and kicking his board up into his arms when he'd stopped. He pushed his blue, rectangular-rimmed glasses up on his nose and smirked. "I was expecting you to have your face stuck in Mario Kart or something."

Boomer was a pretty good skateboarder, though. Despite his brothers' and peers' constant teases about how "gay" it was to do so, he didn't mind. He loved it. Just a day spent tearing up guard rails and dominating the sixteen steps to the bank was enough to keep him alive. His board was one of his most prized possessions, a fancy thirty-two inch Element with a silver-and-blue lightning bolt design on its deck and sparkling clear wheels. If Boomer wasn't riding his skateboard, he was carrying it under his arm, hugging it to his chest like a small child as he was now.

Butch's scowl grew only slightly wider as he mumbled, "I lost my DS charger again."

The light wind played with the boys' hair as they grouped together in the courtyard only minutes before the first bell rang. The three were dressed in the CSB traditional uniform, bland off-white button-downs and bright, multicoloured ties, to each his own preferred shade. They also sported pleated khakis and shiny black dress shoes, with the exception of Boomer, whose shoes were so scuffed up it was hard to believe he could see his reflection in them at one time. Boomer shoved his hands in his pockets and tapped his shoe absently against the cobblestone pavement to the beat of Butch's wayward tune.

"That's new," Brick grumbled into his photographs. He'd flicked through the last one and was now straightening the stack and shoving the lot back into their envelope. "Given how much time you spend with that thing, you shouldn't ever lose the charger."

The first day back after a long vacation was always the hardest day. So, Thanksgiving break hadn't exactly counted as "long", per se, but any extra amount of time allotted to get out of school was something, at least. Returning to school after a five-day weekend was Hell to pay, and it hurt worse and worse after every growing moment.

Butch's hand slipped and his electric barked out a sharp note. "Fuck," he muttered. He kicked the side of the wall underneath him with the heel of his untied shoe and clicked his tongue, repositioning the pick in his fingers.

Brick stood up from his perch on the wall and slung his backpack over his shoulder just as the first bell rang in their ears. Boomer tossed his board into his other arm and mimicked the action. Butch growled and placed his electric gingerly back into its case, locking it up tight and dragging his backpack after his brothers, who had already begun the Walk of Doom into the school.

* * *

Far too perky to be considered realistic, the office clerk yelped the end-of-the-day announcements one by shrill, earsplitting one over the loudspeaker.

"And tonight, the Varsity Hockey team will host a six o'clock game against the Fairlane Tigers, competing for the semi-finalist position. Good luck, boys!"

Brick pumped his fist silently in the air along with a few other boys from his team. He knew if he emoted, the teacher would surely write him up for being disrespectful during afternoon announcements. This was the team's one shot against those jerks, the Fairlane Tigers, to win the semi-finalist spot and make it to the playoffs. If they lost this game... well, it would be the end of an early season for the almighty CityVille Dragons. Brick just hoped to god Coach actually decided to put him in this time.

When the final bell rang to dismiss the class, the boys rocketed out of their seats and bolted out the doors, loosening their ties before they were even gone from the classroom. The brothers (minus one) re-corralled in their usual spot by the fountain in the courtyard, Brick beating Boomer there by half a second to steal his place on the wall.

"Butch in detention again?"

"Most likely."

Boomer whistled low and muttered something in broken French. "_Typique_..."

"Yeah, speaking of the fag life," Brick muttered, "You better not have one of those gay-ass French Club meetings tonight."

A secretive grin spread across Boomer's face and he blew the hair from his forehead. "Relax dude, I'll make it to your game. Corey and I already bought tickets."

"Great, you're bringing your love slave to my game, I can't wait."

"Hey, do you want me there or not?" He spun his board around in his hands. "I'm not even sure I want to go anymore. Rumour has it they got you playing left bench again."

Brick ran a hand through his short red locks. They wouldn't let him keep it very long—it was against school policy to grow it out any longer than to his eyebrows. Boomer barely abided that rule. He flipped his long golden hair to the side with the whip of his neck, and the girls went crazy. That is, whenever any girls were around, and that excluded his girlfriend.

"If you and your disgusting girlfriend made fucking posters for me again, I swear to god I'll—"

"What'd I say about insulting Corey?" Boomer growled.

"It's only allowed if it's true?" Brick quipped, leaning himself back to lay on the wall.

"I'm serious, _Rouge_," the blonde snarled, using his usual bothersome pet name for the eldest. "Quit talking shit or I'll beat your face in."

"I'd really love to see you try," Brick snorted under his breath. Luckily enough for him, the next moment happened to be one of those "speak of the devil" moments, and Boomer grinned widely as he pulled his girlfriend in for a tight embrace as she approached.

"_Bonjour ma chérie_," the boy cooed into her ear. Corey smiled and pecked him on the cheek.

Corey was a short, slim, bit-of-skirt kind of girl with short, choppy brunette hair and bright baby blue eyes that glistened in the sunlight. She wore the uniform for the counterpart school, CityVille School for Girls, a creamy white button-down with a pleated pink skirt, white knee-highs and brown Mary Janes. At present her shirt was coming untucked and she left it buttoned down to her breast, exposing a flimsy scrap of fabric she called her "under shirt".

Brick scoffed at the two disgusting lovebirds and turned his head to look upwards, watching the distant clouds tumble leisurely by in their endless blue sea of sky. He tuned out the sound of his brother's mindless mushy chit-chatter and directed his thoughts toward tonight's game. If they won, the team would head to the playoffs for the first time in Dragon history, kicking those good-for-nothing Tigers into their rightful place on the street. He knew he couldn't trust Butch or Boomer to use his precious Canon to take photographs of the game, but he figured it was worth a shot permitting Butch to fumble with his old Sony Single-Shot to at least get _some_ kind of footage. After all, if Brick ended up scoring the winning goal for the team, he wanted _somebody_ to believe it when he told them. He could picture it now— _Brick Jojo is going in for the goal with only five seconds on the clock! He races down the ice, slides past four guys with ease, and in the last possible remaining second, number five slapshots the Dragons into instant_—"

"_Victory_!" Butch's battle cry cut dangerously into Brick's little daydream. He opened his eyes to see his raven-haired brother standing before him, his fist clenched in the air. The corner of Brick's mouth turned up just slightly into a smile as he immediately recognized his brother in his usual stance.

"Thought you said you lost the charger for that thing?"

Butch's tongue poked out of his mouth in concentration. "Sandy had one in the lounge and she let me charge it during my study hour."

Brick did not even comment on the note that Butch called their English teacher "Sandy", or the fact that she just happened to have a charger for a Nintendo DS just lying around.

"I'm guessing she's the one who bailed you out so early, then," Boomer noted, his arm swung carelessly around his girlfriend's shoulders.

"Nah, Mr. Frentze's cool. He let me out early for good behaviour." He snickered.

Brick and Boomer raised an eyebrow at each other. "He fell asleep, didn't he?" Brick asked.

Butch looked up from his game long enough to waggle his eyebrows at them and respond "That he did, my good brother, that he did."

"_La bonté_," Boomer murmured, turning his nose to nuzzle Corey's. He used the tip of her nose to push his glasses back onto his nose, and it was an absolutely sickening sight.

"Everything you say sounds like some kind of fancy restaurant food," Butch said with a laugh.

"I don't think I would eat anything that sounded like 'Booty'," Corey commented. Boomer shot her a look and she winked smugly.

"Speaking of food and booty," Brick interceded before things could get nasty, "I'm hungry. Let's hit up the Food Court and pick up some chicken and chicks."

"Now you're speaking my language, bro," Butch grinned.

Brick swung his legs over the edge of the wall and hopped up, loudly cracking his back. Corey made a sick face at the action, burying her face into Boomer's chest. The four of them meandered toward the Food Court as Corey reminded Boomer that he better not be picking up chicks _or _chicken, because she was of course a vegetarian, and it would be rude to eat meat in front of her ("I can't wait to sink my teeth into that juicy, salty, fried _chicken_," Butch emphasized purposely, earning himself a glare from both Corey and her boyfriend).

The four snagged their usual corner booth in the back, Butch sliding into the middle without once looking up and Brick scooting down after him.

"Corey and I'll get the food, what d'you guys want to drink?" Boomer's arm locked around Corey's waist and she nodded.

"Mountain Dew," Butch said without hesitation.

"Get me a Coke."

Boomer nodded, remembering their orders and went to stand in line for the pop machine. Corey fidgeted at his side, glancing around the co-ed Food Court for someone that she knew.

"You're next, babe," Corey said quickly, shoving him into his place in line.

Boomer sighed audibly as he placed the orders for two fried chicken meals and two Greek salads. When the orders were up, he carried three trays ("I'm not touching that _disgusting _meat!" said you-know-who) to the table along with their drinks.

"Hey, _chêrie_," Boomer said to her as they moved to sit down, "mind grabbing us some napkins?"

The girl scowled, shooting him a glare. "I told you not to call me that," she muttered as she stalked away. Boomer sighed, sitting down and horking down a bite of Butch's chicken before Corey could reprimand him about it.

"Damn, what crawled up her ass and died?" Butch asked, finally putting down the DS to grab some food. He snatched his own chicken and began stuffing his face with the good stuff, pausing only a moment to allow a contented moan to escape his lips.

Boomer just shrugged, watching Brick pick a piece of lettuce out of his French fries. "She's like that sometimes," he admitted.

"Sometimes?" the redheaded brother snorted. "More like all the time."

"She's got a good heart though, right?" Boomer asked them absentmindedly, observing his girlfriend from across the court as she waited impatiently for the worker to refill the napkin dispenser.

Neither of his brothers responded straightaway, both too preoccupied with their chicken meals. After a moment or so, Brick paused for a second to chew and worded his answer hesitantly.

"If you say so, Boom."

Corey returned a few seconds later with a stack of napkins and a scowl on her face, complaining about the rudeness of the workers at the Food Court. Boomer tried his best to at least pretend to listen to her rant, but it was nothing he hadn't heard before, really.

"All these workers are high school kids," Butch muttered, his voice finally snapping Boomer back to reality. "They're all dicks to begin with."

"Would you please not talk about such obscenities while I'm _eating_?" Corey begged, jerking a hand towards her meal.

Butch snorted and shrugged, finished with his meal and now turning his attention back to his DS.

Brick groaned and buried his face in his hands. Corey would've been unconscious on the ground by now if she wasn't Boomer's girlfriend.

"Man, where are the _attractive _girls today?" he whined, casting a look across the room where there were no—count em!—_no _cute girls whatsoever.

"I found one," Boomer smiled, poking Corey on the nose with the tip of his finger.

Butch gagged and Brick rolled his eyes.

Corey crinkled her nose and swatted his hand away, focusing on a tiny packet of almonds in her hands. "Baby, stop, I'm trying to read the calorie count on these."

Boomer blew air out onto his forehead again and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

Brick took a sip of his Coke, then made a face at the taste.

"Dammit, Boomer, this is Diet!"

Boomer blinked and Corey shrugged. "Oops?" she squeaked, taking a sip of her own iced tea.

The table came in harsh contact with Brick's forehead and he groaned again.

"Is he okay?" Corey whispered loudly.

"Probably," Boomer responded softly, a chuckle in his voice. "He's just really stressed about the game tonight."

"Yes!" Butch exclaimed rather loudly. "I finally beat World Six! Suck on that, Bowser!"

Corey clicked her tongue and took another sip of her iced tea, sucking the very last of the beverage out of the cup with a loud _slurp!_

Brick's allowed his head to rise up slightly, only to fall back harshly down against the table again.

* * *

_Now before you ask; YES, the girls will be in this story, just not yet. Review for an Everlasting Gobstopper! :D_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Before Again**

**Chapter Two**

**Rating: T for now, but will likely change to M later on.**

******Summary: "It's like we're living our childhood over again. They're trying to slowly murder us from the inside out. Just like how they do it on the Sci-Fi network." My personal rendition of a PPGxRRB high school drama.**

**Notes: The Girls and Boys all have normal features, and do not have superpowers in this story. You can probably expect an update at least every two weeks, if not more frequently.**

**Disclaimer: If today was Opposite Day, I could say I own the PowerPuff Girls. n.n**

**A/N: Wow! Thank you guys so much for your feedback! I didn't think you would like it so much. Two weeks later, on the dot, just as i promised! I promise I'll try my hardest not to let you down! Enjoy :)**

**xoxo -ml**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

_"Shit. I let the negatives soak too long..."_

_He jumped forward, tossing his hockey magazine aside and frantically trying to scoop his precious negatives out of the red dye. He pinched them out and clipped them up on the clothesline to drip dry. Pacing, he waited impatiently for the negatives to develop. The red-tinted light beat hotly down on him and he swiped perspiration from his brow._

_After an eternity, the time was finally up. He shut his eyes tightly, afraid to look at the potentially ruined shots. Squinting one eye open, he noticed that the pictures were in perfect condition._

_With a sigh of relief, he wiped his brow again and dried his hands on a towel that was lying on the desk nearby. That was a close one._

* * *

The icy wind sliced right through Boomer's flimsy windbreaker and playfully tousled Butch's dark locks. The two stood "patiently" outside the girls' dormitory, leaning against a mural of some old lady that had been painted on the wall about a million years ago.

Butch groaned for the _n_th time and smacked the back of his head rather harshly into the wall behind him. Boomer played with a loose string on his windbreaker, sighing and glancing at his cell phone every few minutes.

"I swear to god, she better be wearing a fucking Prom dress when she gets out here for all the time she's taking," Butch complained, kicking the wall. He lovingly caressed his precious DS in his jacket pocket. He wanted to play it more than anything, but he'd promised himself he'd conserve its battery at least until they arrived at the game.

"Just give her a few more minutes," Boomer said defensively. "She'll be out soon."

"You said that like half an hour ago!" Butch whined.

"We've only been waiting twenty minutes."

Another groan escaped from the depths of Butch's chest. Before he could make another complaint, the door to Corey's hallway swung open and the she-devil herself stepped out into the cold and began shivering immediately. Butch scowled when he realized she had merely replaced her uniform skirt with a pair of jeans.

"It's freezing out here!" she exclaimed, pulling her black peacoat tighter around her shoulders with another shiver.

"No shit, you should be the weather girl."

Boomer swung his foot in Butch's direction, but completely missed. The obnoxious older boy sniggered at his own comment and danced out of the way with a cackle. Corey snuggled into her boyfriend's chest and he rubbed her arms with his palms.

"Come on," Boomer said softly, taking Corey's petite hand in his own, "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can warm up."

The trio began to walk towards the ice arena, which was about a block away from the girls' dorm. It was a chilly, clear night; a few thin, fluffy clouds screened the light from the full moon.

"I hope we get good seats," Butch muttered, shuffling his feet. "The game's probably half over already."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I take too long?" False innocence dripped from Corey's words as she gazed wide-eyed up at her boyfriend.

Butch groaned, threw his arms into the air and kicked a rock as hard as he could down the street.

"No, no, _charité,_" Boomer assured her, his arm shielding her face from the biting wind. "Not much really happens at the beginning anyways."

There was a snort from somewhere in Butch's direction, but aside from that, he kept quiet.

"Oh, good," his girlfriend responded with a sweet smile.

Boomer tried his best to ignore his brother's gag by quickly changing the subject. "So, d'you think Brick'll actually get to play?"

Butch snorted for a third time and rolled his eyes, this time not only in annoyance. "Who cares, dude, nobody actually watches the games anyway."

Boomer's nose crinkled in confusion. "Why else would they go?"

Apparently, that wasn't a very wise question to ask, because Butch drew his attention from the clearing sky to face his brother's curious look, a fiery gaze burning in his emerald eyes.

"It's a teenage wasteland, dude!" the dark-haired boy replied, as if this was the most obvious thing. He spun completely around, walking backwards down the sidewalk with his eyes still glued to his brother's face. "It's kinda like a secret burnout. Well, for me anyways. And there's chicks. Lots and lots of super sexy, shiverin' in the cold, make-upped, yoga pants-wearing _chicks_." He threw his arms out to either side as if expecting a hug and laughed, a single gruff note piercing the night like a knife.

Corey looked down at her own pair of jeans. "I didn't know I was supposed to wear yogas..." she muttered. "Maybe I should go back and change."

"_No_!" Butch exclaimed, his eyes growing wide.

"Er, that's alright, _chérie_," Boomer said in a soft voice, rubbing her arm again. "Not everyone's going to be wearing them. You'll be fine."

She didn't seem too sure about that, but she shrugged it off. She leaned into Boomer, and the trio continued on their way. Butch letting out a dramatic breath of relief.

* * *

The rink was swarming with teenagers, most of them grouped together in tight cliques. And yes, the majority of the girls were wearing yoga pants. Boomer tried to steer his girlfriend away from the unprecedented crowd of tight pants-wearing girls.

"I'll be right back," Butch muttered under his breath, slinking away and blending in with the crowd, leaving Boomer and Corey alone to find seats. They chose three chairs towards the middle of the rink, close enough for Boomer to recognize the action of the ice but far enough away for Corey to not "feel awkward with everyone staring at the backs of their heads". Boomer immediately checked the score; it was 2-3, Tigers. He groaned, and Corey looked to him with wide eyes.

"Are we winning?" she asked.

"No," he responded with a scowl. "They're beating us by one point."

"How do you get points in this game again? You have to get the ball in the goal, right?"

He hesitated. "Er, sort of. They've got to put the puck in the net. But the goalie's blocking the way, and the Tigers' goalie is really good."

Corey observed the boys skate around on the ice for a minute before turning to him again with another question. "How do you know their goalie is good?"

A buzzer sounded and Boomer groaned along with the rest of the crowd. The first period had just ended with no tying score from the CityVille Dragons.

"_Zut_!" Boomer exclaimed. "He had that shot lined up!"

"Baby," Corey tried again, tugging on his sleeve in annoyance. He turned his face slightly to her but his eyes remained glued to the ice.

"I'm sorry, _chérie_, what did you ask?"

She sighed. "Never mind. I'm thirsty. Will you go get me a drink?"

Boomer's eyes flickered to her pleading face, then back to the ice. "Um, yeah, sure, just hold on _une minute_, I wanna see if they're gonna put Brick in for the second period."

She whiled, "But baby, I'm _really_ thirsty."

His eyes flickered to the pleading look in her eyes again. "Fine, I'll be right back." He stood up, quickly dashing towards the concessions before the second period began. He passed right by Butch on his way, almost crashing into him without even noticing it.

Butch stumbled back to find Corey with her hand over her mouth, studying the game in confusion.

"That was quick," she said without looking away.

"I know," he responded, flopping into the seat beside her. "I'm a fast puffer."

She jerked her attention to him now, noticing that this was not, in fact, her boyfriend. Butch immediately reached into his pocket and pulled out his DS, turning it on with quivering hands.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked in disgust. He smirked, but did not answer her question. Instead, he replied with an inquiry of his own.

"Do you have any hot friends?"

She stared incredulously at him. "_Excuse_ me?"

He didn't look up. "You heard me," he said. "If you were a lesbian, you know. Would you do any of them?"

"Are you trying to get me to hook you up with my friends?"

He cackled. "Could you?"

She scowled. "You're disgusting."

"Thank you, I try."

Her hand reeled back to smack him, but just then Boomer returned with her drink.

"Thanks, baby," she said sweetly, her attitude sparkling to life immediately. He smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

"Hey, where's mine?" Butch cried, pouting.

"What, you want a kiss too?" Boomer snorted.

"Yeah," Butch deadpanned. "Plant one right here on my ass."

Corey made a face and Boomer rolled his eyes. "Seriously dude? How high can you get in twenty minutes?"

"Enough," Butch snickered.

Corey stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. "You lied to me," she whispered.

Her boyfriend blinked. "I did? About what?"

"You said there weren't going to be any girls wearing yoga pants."

"Well, I never said _that_," he said in defense.

"There you go lying again!" she cried. "I'll be in the bathroom." She stood up and stomped off.

Butch cackled again. "Smooth, bro."

Boomer scowled and slunk into his seat. "Whatever," he snapped. "Just tell me Brick's playing this period."

Butch shrugged and winced when his character died. "I'm too shitfaced to even see this screen, dude. _You_ tell _me_ if he's playing."

The blonde squinted at the ice, searching for number five. "He's still benched," he grumbled.

"Yeah, that coach doesn't know shit," Butch muttered.

"He has to put him in once, just to see what he can do..."

When his character died yet again, Butch allowed his eyes to wander over to the bathrooms, where he could barely make out Corey chatting with a few girls from her school. His eyes rested on the circular pink plaque in the door with the white silhouette of what was clearly meant to be a female. His already hazy eyes glazed over and the plaque swam in his vision. He closed his DS and shoved it in his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Boomer asked, taking note of his brother's unusual behaviour.

Butch answered by standing up and, turning around merely to wink at the blonde over his shoulder, one glistening emerald eye appearing red and fuzzy. He stumbled off in the direction of the restrooms.

He leaned against the wall outside of the restroom until the coast was clear. When at last he thought no one was looking at him, he pushed open the door and slunk inside. Luckily enough for his own sanity's sake, there were no girls in the bathroom to see him enter. With drug-induced vision, he gazed around the room desperately trying to absorb all of his surroundings.

The girls' restroom wasn't at all as he'd imagined it to be. He'd pictured it having gilded, shiny toilets with velvet seats. Perhaps even fountains in place of the sinks. It may have just been his intoxicated brain, but he felt disappointed at the lack of golden toilet paper.

Suddenly, the pink-tiled walls began to swirl around him and he grasped the stall for support. He heard voices outside and the door began to open. As quick as his slowed brain would allow him, he nipped into the stall and shut the door behind him.

"He barely even notices my existence."

Butch heard the door swing open and two pairs of brown Mary Janes belonging to two girls shuffled in. He held his breath as they both stopped at the sinks to observe themselves in the mirror.

"I told you, Blossy, he's not good for you," a second, more alto voice said. "You need a guy who's not gonna cheat on everything that walks on two legs and has a vagina."

The first girl scowled. "Not every guy is going to cheat on me."

Butch decided he liked this first girl best. She had a musical voice with just the perfect amount of vibrato to her words that were soothing to his pounding headache. That kind of voice almost always meant one thing: H-O-T hot babe.

"Yeah, that's true, but you can't fall for every single guy who tries to bang you."

Butch smirked to himself as the first girl scoffed again. He decided it was time to put these girls out of their misery and reveal himself to them.

Well, apparently, it's frowned upon for a teenage boy to be creeping in a stall in the girls' restroom. But of course, he couldn't see straight and his head was spinning and it was either get the hell out of that stall or throw up into the toilet. And he didn't think it was socially acceptable to throw up into a girl toilet. It felt like a violation of some universal law or something.

So he opened the door. Swung it open, more like. The action startled the two females that were standing at the sinks into a split second of silence, followed by an ear-splitting scream. Through blurry vision Butch saw the girl on his right with long auburn hair throw her hands to her face. The scream obviously emanated from her throat. He tried to calm her down, to tell her he was here to help, but she ignored him and pretended like he hadn't said a word. And maybe he hadn't, at this point he couldn't even tell, his head was hurting so bad.

He felt himself falling to the cool bathroom floor, and the second girl stared wide-eyed at him through dark framed glasses. Her face held an expression of curiosity and confusion. He watched her approach unnaturally slowly, but then again, everything seemed to be moving in such slow motion as he felt the cool pink tile against his cheek.

The last thing he remembered was an excruciatingly sharp pain in his stomach, where the bespectacled girl had undoubtedly kicked him as hard as she could. Even though he was intoxicated, he had to admit, that girl could kick.

* * *

"I'm really sorry you guys lost," Boomer said for the tenth time, causing Brick to scowl. Again.

"Yeah, me too."

The brothers sat outside the ice rink on the bench, waiting for Corey to finish talking to one of her friends, who Brick was staring intently at.

"If only he'd let me play! I'd help us win."

"He'll realize how important you are soon," said Boomer hopefully. Brick emptied the remains of his Gatorade onto the ground and scowled, not removing his eyes from Corey's friend. "I feel like I've seen her before," Boomer noted.

Brick broke his gaze to look questioningly at his brother, who nodded towards his girlfriend's friend. Brick looked back at the girl and studied her face again. A thick black headband held back her waist-length, pin-straight copper hair and sent it tamely tumbling town her back. She had significantly wide, so-brown-they-were-almost-pink eyes. She had on a fuzzy pink North Face jacket (and yes, she was wearing yoga pants—tight black ones with a hot pink band around the waist). Brick had to admit, there _was_ something frighteningly familiar about this girl, but after a moment of silent observation, he shook his head and looked away.

"I dunno, maybe. They're all the same to me." He stood up and heaved his hockey gear over his shoulder, taking a step towards the boys' dorm. "We better get going if you still gotta drop _her_ off." He said 'her' like it was some sort of disease. "Don't wanna break curfew."

Boomer nodded absently, still watching Corey and her friend.

"Seen Butch?" the older boy asked.

"He got up and left in the middle of the second. Haven't seen him since."

Brick shifted his weight. "He's got my camera."

Boomer shot him a look. "Why would you ever let that happen?" Brick blinked. "This is Butch. He probably sold it for doobies."

With another scowl, Brick kicked the cement and continued to walk towards the dorm again.

"Don't wait up for me," Boomer muttered after him.

Brick turned around with a devious smile. "I know what that means," he said, a glint in his eye.

Boomer's cheeks flushed, and it wasn't just from the cold. He dug his hands deeper into his pockets. "Shut up, you know I'm not allowed in the girls' dorm."

Raising an eyebrow, Brick added, "Good point, and it _is_ a bit cold out for the whole outdoors thing."

Boomer chucked his empty soda cup at Brick. It hid him in the back and he laughed, "Don't break curfew, Romeo."

"Whatever you say, Mother."

-o-

At quarter past eleven Corey was finally ready to go. She said goodbye to her frighteningly familiar friend, who shot a fleeting look Boomer's way before hopping in a car and driving off. If the girl was headed to the ladies' dorm before them anyways, Boomer didn't see why she couldn't just take Corey with her. But he guessed it had something to do with the whole "Boyfriend Code" that he never seemed to follow. According to her, anyways.

Corey smiled sweetly at him and took his hand in hers. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting, babe."

He shrugged as they began the short walk. At least she apologized. It was only negative-fifty degrees out and he only had to wait like an hour for her to talk to some girl she probably saw every day. It was okay. They got to walk together and he was being a good boyfriend and that's all that mattered.

He might even listen to her when she started to talk.

"So my friend was telling me about..." Oh, great. He was losing focus already. _Come on, Boomer, _he coached himself._ Only five more minutes of this until we get there. _Luckily, his attention was snagged almost immediately by the term "dark-haired creepy guy" that he could've sworn he'd heard somewhere before.

"...and he was just stalking them, I dunno, and he like jumped out of the stall in the bathroom and scared them to death. And like, I guess her sister kicked this guy in the gut or something—she does Tai-Kwan-Do, you know—and he like fell to the ground in pain or 'cuz he was drunk or something. Weird, huh?"

He didn't respond, but something made him tighten his grip on her hand.

"Baby? Hello?" They stopped walking about half a block from the entrance to the girls' dorm and she eyed him suspiciously. "_What_?" she begged, noticing the blank expression on his face.

"When Butch left," he started slowly, "how long was he gone?"

She blinked. "I dunno. Like the whole rest of the game since the end of the first thing. Why?" But even before she asked, she'd made the connection and her eyes grew wide. "Oh my god, it was him, wasn't it?"

Boomer let go of her hand and trudged forward, shoving his hands into his pockets. She paused a moment before hopping after him.

"Butch gets into the stupidest shit when he's high," he muttered. "I sure hope it wasn't him, but I don't doubt it."

"You see?" She scolded. "I told you there was something wrong with him!"

"Corey, this _is_ my brother, remember? I know he may be stupid but he keeps his wits about him."

"Since when?" she cried, almost having to jog to keep up her pace behind him. "All your brother has ever been good for is that stupid video game! Yeah, he swims, but he can't even do _that_ properly!"

Boomer jerked to a halt in front of her dorm and she almost crashed into him. He whirled around to face her, an angry expression gracing his features. He poised to explode at her for insulting his brother, but his temper melted when he saw the look on her face.

"Aw, _chérie_, you know I can't stay mad at you." He pulled her in close for a quick kiss before addressing her sternly again. "Just don't shit talk my brother, okay?"

She smiled dismissively and kissed him back in reluctant agreement. Boomer quickly took the kiss to the next magnitude, holding her tightly. She allowed him to hold her for another minute before pulling away cautiously and meeting his eyes. He held her perfect blue gaze for a few silent minutes, just looking at her, wanting so badly to kiss her again even though he knew she wouldn't let him, her eyes glinting in the soft light from the street lamp and he wished more than anything that he was allowed in the girls' dormitory.

"Goodnight, Boomer," she whispered, backing away from him and letting herself in the dorm.

He watched her go with a heavy gaze and didn't blink until she had completely disappeared into the building. He sighed heavily and started to walk away slowly until he remembered his promise to Brick, and then hustled to make it home before curfew.

* * *

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

Butch rolled over onto his stomach and mumbled something incoherent into the carpet.

"I need my camera back now." Brick stepped over him and headed to his brother's discarded jacket from the night before.

"I'm surprised you even brought this home," the redhead admitted, relieved.

Butch groaned again. "What time is it?" he asked groggily, barely lifting his head.

"Like five to one, why?"

A third groan emanated from the heap on the floor. For some reason his stomach was killing him. "I was supposed to be at swim an hour ago."

"Well it's a bit late to go now, isn't it?"

Butch ignored him and leaped to his feet, hurrying to his closet where he yanked out a pair of old jeans. He jumped out of his old ones as he went, and pulled on the new ones in record time.

"I'm still here you know," Brick muttered, studying the camera in his hands without looking up.

"Then you got a free show," Butch quipped back, snatching his swim bag from the floor and heading to the door. "Are you making us food?"

"Later, probably. Why?"

"I won't be back until late. Scotty and I are scouting."

"Scouting for what?"

"What do you think?" Butch shot him a look with one eyebrow raised.

"I should've known," Brick said with a sigh. "Don't break too many hearts, okay?"

He grinned. "I'll break 'em all." And with that, he was out the door.

* * *

_The film roll hadn't been touched in ages. But that's exactly how he liked to discover them, years later and without warning. He had hundreds of them, just waiting to be developed. Each month he took a new one to the photography shop and developed them onto special photo paper. There was just something exciting about the development of a new roll of film that sent his heart thrumming into his throat._

_This time, he knew, would be especially exciting, because this particular roll of film was covered in a layer of dust with a label that read '1999'._

_He snatched the package from the counter in the kitchen where Boomer had carelessly tossed it earlier when he'd fetched the mail. Stupid. Didn't he know how valuable these things were? Stealing to the makeshift closet-slash-darkroom, he tore open the envelope. His heart was beating like that of a hummingbird._

_The first photo was of a little boy, grinning toothlessly up at the camera. His face was speckled with bright pink freckles, and atop his head a fiery tuft of carrot-coloured hair. In the hands of the little boy was a red toy camera, which he held up to the photographer as if taking a picture._

_He smiled to himself and set the photo aside._

_The next photo had two children who looked as though they could be twins, their jet black hair and glowing green eyes mirroring each other. They stood glowering at the other, both in unique and comical positions. The little girl stood with her arms folded and her bottom lip stuck out in a cute pout. The boy had his thumbs to his ears and his tongue sticking far out, taunting her._

_It was harder for him to recognize the girl. He hardly remembered her. Setting the photo in a separate pile from the first, he moved on to the third photo._

_This was the photo that puzzled him most. Here in a sunset-framed shot, a little girl with rosy pink cheeks and milky light brown, almost pink-tinted eyes sat in the grass of what looked to be the boys' front yard back at home. She had her cute button nose crinkled into a sneer. Her lip was puckered in disgust at what appeared before her. Her unnaturally long, shiny orange hair pooled around her like a veil, gathering in a heap near her bottom where she sat. She held out her palm in front of her as far as her little arm could stretch it, trying to keep what was in it as far away from her body as she possibly could. For in her upturned palm, he could almost see the wings of the beautiful monarch butterfly fluttering against her skin, its tiny antennae delicately grazing her hand._

_He never would have remembered her in a million years if he hadn't seen her only the night before. It was Corey's friend. From the hockey game. The girl Boomer said had looked "so familiar"._

_He studied the photo for at least another ten minutes before placing it atop his own self portrait and dropping the remains of the envelope down on his desk without glancing at them again. Standing, he quickly escaped the room before he made any more haunting discoveries._

* * *

_Review please! :)_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I deserve to be chopped up and made into soup at this point. I'm so sorry you guys, what with chemistry class and rehearsals every day I've had ZERO time to write! I wish I had a legitimate excuse but I'd be lying if I said I did. I'll make it up to you though, I know this chapter sucks but next chapter you'll meet the girls and hopefully that'll make you not want to kill me, if you're still here by then, that is. I'm gonna try my very hardest to get them up as fast as I can. In the meantime I've got a oneshot to publish for you guys either tomorrow or the day after that. It's a good one, so be prepared. Ok, I'm done rambling now, here's chapter three. I don't own anything, I swear!**

**xoxo -ml**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

If Butch was ever disappointed in himself for joining the torturous swim team, he simply thought back to the one reason he did it in the first place: because it was the only sport he could play with his shirt off. And God, did he love to have his shirt off.

During a short break in the practice, Butch made his way in the direction of his friend Scotty, who was a slightly better swimmer than him. Scotty had scraggly blonde, curly hair that twisted around his earlobes and over his forehead. A wide-set jaw and high cheekbones gave emphasis to his heavy eyebrows and dark eyes. He and Butch were easily two of the better-looking swimmers, as far as body shape went. Broad shoulders and perfectly sculpted chests were a great thing to have in such a sport.

"Twelve o'clock." Scotty nudged Butch with his elbow and nodded in the direction of the bleachers on the far wall. Butch followed his gaze. He scrunched up his nose.

"What, nerd girl?" A girl with short black hair and glasses sat on the bleachers in a pair of grey sweatpants and a red sweatshirt, fiddling with a laptop on her knees.

"What? No, at the bottom."

Butch affixed his eyes to three girls who sat on the bottom bleacher in a little cluster, giggling to each other and shooting secret glances in the boys' direction.

He raised his eyebrows at his friend before turning back in the girls' direction. "Hey, Scotty," he said loudly, loud enough for the girls to hear him across the pool. "Did you get your tickets yet?"

Scotty pretended to act clueless and surprised. "Tickets for what?" he asked, an exaggerated wonder flashing in his eyes.

"The gun show!" Butch exclaimed, flexing his arm muscles while his friend laughed. He heard the chimes of the three girls' laughter ring out across the pool and he smirked.

"Hey Butch, do you know what this is?" Scotty asked in turn, making a gesture with his hand where his index and pinky fingers were sticking straight up out of a closed fist.

"No, what is it?" Butch played.

"A gun rack!" Scotty flexed his opposite arm and rested his elbow on the "rack". Another jingle of laughter rang out over the pool. Butch glanced in the girls' direction again, winking at them. Each of them swooned in their own way, which caused him to chuckle.

A few of the others on their swim team whispered behind the boys' backs about how stupid they were and rolled their eyes. He ignored them and his eyes absently trailed back up to the top of the bleachers where the black-haired 'nerd' girl was still sitting. In a split second, he caught her looking away, as if trying to pretend she hadn't been staring at him. He raised his eyebrows, the smirk growing wider on his face as he studied this girl. There was something frighteningly familiar about her, but for some reason he couldn't place a finger on it.

"Butch!" his coach called, approaching him with weighted strides. "I need to talk to you, boy."

Butch eyed the nerd girl for another moment before turning to face his coach. "'Sup, coach?"

The coach narrowed his eyes at him. "You think I'm a retard?" he scowled. "You think I'm just an idiot who wouldn't find out about your little adventure last night? You make me sick. You never try to improve, you're last on the roster, and you're late all the time to boot! I've had it with your screwing around, boy. You're done. Get out of my sight."

Without another word, his coach was stomping away, leaving Butch breathless in his wake. Scotty cringed and patted his friend on the back, "Tough luck, dude." Butch glanced at the girls again. They were now looking at him with horror, as were the rest of his team. Or should he say, his _ex_-team. The bespectacled girl raised an eyebrow at him, now a small smirk playing at her bright red lips.

Silently, he scowled and shuffled away like a dog with his tail between his legs. He gathered his things, reluctantly threw on his shirt and exited the school building without looking back. Kicked off the swim team. Wow. That must've been a first. With less than an hour left to kill before his friends were let out of practice, he aimlessly wandered into the courtyard, pulling out his DS and sitting down to play on the fountain wall. He leaned his head back against the cool brick wall and sighed heavily. As much as he hated getting up early on Saturdays or doing endless laps, he really never wanted to be kicked off. For the first time ever, he put down his DS for a few seconds to evaluate his life.

That didn't last long, though. An evaluation of his life quickly led him to the conclusion that he was a lot more unfortunate than he had originally thought.

As soon as he'd brought the game back up to his face, a dark shadow cast itself over his screen and he looked up to see the nerd girl with her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

"Can I help you?" he asked bluntly, restarting the level and turning his attention back to his DS.

"Yeah, you can," she snapped. She reached out and smacked the game out of his hands, sending it clattering to the pavement below. His heart skipped a beat and he gasped, scrambling after the fallen device. "Mind telling me what the fuck you were doing in the girls' bathroom last night?"

After a full examination to make sure his DS wasn't damaged in any way, he looked up to see that he was on his knees at her feet, staring up at the light from the sun surrounding her face like a halo. He squinted and clambered to his feet. This angle was a lot different. He was a pretty tall guy, and this girl was unusually short. He towered over her and looked down at her face with raised eyebrows. Something clicked in his brain and he instantaneously realized where he'd seen her before.

She was the girl who had kicked him in the balls last night.

Butch never really hated anybody, unless it was a teacher who put him in detention or an annoying kid who needed to take a class on "How to Walk Properly in the Hallway 101". Kicking him where the sun didn't shine wasn't even _that _bad. After all, she'd had a reason to. But just touching his most prized possession was uncalled for. Let alone slapping it out of his hands. That was where he drew the line. He instantly decided that he hated this girl.

"Mind telling me why the fuck I shouldn't kill you right now?"

She raised an eyebrow, her hands still planted on her hips. The way she was so calm and collected caused him to see red. He wasn't used to having a girl look at him this way—heck, he wasn't used to having a girl look him in the eye at all. This girl just looked like she was bored with him.

"Why the fuck shouldn't _I_ kill _you_?" she snapped. "My sister may be fine going to the authorities with that kind of shit, but I tend to handle things a little bit differently." She cracked her knuckles, trying to appear threatening. He laughed in surprise.

"Um, you're serious?" he chuckled.

Her face became even more angry. "Of course I'm serious. You don't think I can take on a loser like you? You're just a brainless crackhead who gets his sick kicks sneaking into the girls' bathroom."

"Hold the fucking phone," he said, trying to hold back his laughter but completely failing. "You're actually trying to fight me right now?"

She said nothing, she only glared at him, her light green eyes narrowed into slits. He burst into a full-on laughing fit. He laughed for a good three minutes, not noticing the rest of the swim team dispersing as they were let out of practice. The girl didn't move an inch, staring at him as he made a scene of his laughter. A few of the swim kids were standing nearby, Scotty included, observing what appeared to be a disturbance in the courtyard and whispering to themselves. Butch may not have known this short, fiery-eyed girl very well, but the rest of them sure did know about her reputation. They held their breaths for something they could sense in her heavy breathing, could see in her blazing eyes, could feel in her quickened heartbeat.

She gave him five seconds to recuperate from his laughter before punching him square in the jaw with her small fist.

He reeled backwards from the force of the punch, the idiotic smile still glued on his face, stumbling over the fountain wall and splashing right into the fountain, DS and all. The swim kids went crazy, laughing their heads off and pulling out their phones to take photos of the distraught boy in the fountain. The girl lowered her fist to her side with a calm sigh, brushing the hair out of her eyes and pushing her glasses back up her nose.

"That ought to teach you not to be such a damn _pervert_!" she cried angrily as he tried scrambling to his feet but slipped and fell back into the fountain waters again. Ignoring her audience, that was gaping at her in utter awe and respect, she trudged away, shaking her head.

Butch held his DS as high as he could above the fountain so it wouldn't touch the water any more than it already had. He stood slowly, glaring after the girl and sopping wet. The crowd could practically see the steam rising off of him in waves as anger heated up his body. Scotty rushed over, trying his best to conceal his laughter, but Butch noticed the snicker behind his best friend's hands.

"You okay man?" Scotty asked, trying to help Butch out of the fountain. He swiped a hand across his DS screen before nodding, still glaring in the girl's direction.

"Damn, that girl sure packs a punch," his friend said in awe. He himself stared after her with a strange look of longing on his face. When Butch turned his glare on Scotty, the blonde snapped out of it and asked, "is your game okay?"

Butch held it up to the light to further examine the device, but froze in his tracks as a familiar set of heavy footsteps stomped their way.

"Just what do you think you're doing?!" a voice exclaimed just as Butch was making to climb out of the fountain. He posed with one leg over the edge of the wall just as the vice principal strode hurriedly over to him. The observing crowd scattered like a flock of pigeons, but Butch remained stark still on the edge of the fountain wall.

"I think you'd better come with me, young man." The vice principal snatched Butch's arm and dragged his foot out of the water, yanking him towards the school office. The few people who were left bravely observing the scene snickered and followed their departure with accusing eyes.

Scotty shot him a sympathetic look and Butch scowled deeply, clutching his throbbing cheek with his free hand. His day was not going as well as he'd hoped. And it was about to get a lot worse...

* * *

The library was nearly empty on this Saturday morning, and as usual, Brick sat typing ferociously away on one of the computers near the back. He was so used to being here in this setting that the young assistant librarian knew his name and everything.

"Brick," she said softly, approaching him after about an hour of silent browsing. "You've been on that computer for quite a while." She rested her hand on his shoulder and he looked away from the screen to stare at it. "You should take a break."

He shrugged her hand away with a sigh and leaned back in his chair, his back arching with an awkward crack. He blinked the tears from his eyes as they focused back on the screen once again.

"Yeah," he muttered to her, picking up his backpack from the floor at his feet. After he'd shut down the computer, he swung the bag over his shoulder and made to shuffle out.

"Your brother's in the vice principal's office," the girl reported to him as he walked away.

He sighed again but did not turn around to face her. "Thanks," he mumbled. He opened the door and stepped out into the chilly morning air.

* * *

"I don't understand how Boomer never gets in trouble for getting pushed in the fountain. And most of the time he isn't even pushed. He just falls!" Butch lowered his gaze and scowled, the sharp breeze threatening to rip a pink scrap of paper out of his hand as he and Brick walked back to their dorm.

"I don't think you would've gotten in any trouble if he hadn't been looking for you in the first place," Brick told him truthfully.

"Yeah, well fuck math anyways. Who cares if I failed one little test? I don't see why I have to be tutored for it."

Brick just shrugged at his comment. He wasn't sure what else to say. He personally thought his brother was too much of a rebel who needed to set some boundaries for himself, but of course he wasn't going to say that. Butch wasn't going to listen. He never did.

"Now I've got another weeks' detention _and_ I have to start getting tutored. This is fucking bullshit, dude."

"At least you'll have time to do your homework in detention," Brick offered halfheartedly, attempting to balance on the curb.

"Like I said," Butch cut sharply, nudging him so he toppled over onto the sidewalk. "Bullshit."

"Still can't believe you literally _failed_ a test. And not just one, but three right in a row," said Brick. "I've never even failed one. I didn't think it was possible."

Butch's scowl turned into a full-on frown. "Yeah, well we all can't be super geniuses like the perfect Brick now, can we?"

"I'm just saying, dude. You need to get your shit together." He hadn't been planning on saying it, but he did anyways. And while he was at it... "I'm pretty sure there isn't a successful career in the book that consists of smoking weed and fucking around with girls."

He was fully prepared to get hit in the face after that one, and although he braced himself, no hit came.

Butch stared up into the cloudy afternoon sky with a squint. "I'm no good at anything else. There isn't a career for playing video games, is there?"

"Actually, you could be a video game tester if you wanted. Literally all they do is play games. But you'd have to be good at them to do that."

That comment _did_ get him hit. Right upside the head. Ah yes, the drawbacks of being the shortest brother.

"But there ain't no math involved in that!"

"Hopefully grammar skills go unneeded for that job, too," the redhead muttered under his breath. The words fell unheard before Butch's ears and Brick yawned. He hadn't gotten much sleep as of late. Only the night before he'd stayed up until the wee hours of the morning studying the new found photographs that he just couldn't understand. He shook the thought out of his mind and shifted his focus to teasing his brother again.

"Maybe I'll pull my shit together someday and actually get good grades in college or something," Butch was musing. But before the sentence had even stumbled out of his mouth, he snorted. "What the fuck am I saying, no I won't."

"And maybe someday girls will stop thinking you're a horny fuck and go out with you," Brick added with a smirk. "Oh wait, what the fuck am I saying, no they won't."

And then he had to start running for his life before Butch tackled him into the snow.

* * *

"What's black and white and red all over?" Brick asked Boomer loudly with a smirk as he and Butch walked into the dorm.

Boomer figured he'd bite, just this once. "I don't know, a newspaper?"

"Butch's math test after it's graded!" he burst into laughter and Boomer humoured him with a small smile.

Butch walked past his redheaded brother, a deep scowl etched onto his face. "Vice Principal Sanders says I gotta see a tutor or I'll flunk out of algebra."

Boomer flipped his long hair to the side and laid back on the couch, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Butch threw his backpack onto the floor and headed straight to the kitchen area while Brick removed his boots by the door.

"Well, nobody here's smart enough to help you," Boomer yawned.

Brick shot him a glare but said nothing. He shuffled after Butch into the kitchen, snatched him by the collar and yanked his nose out of their tiny fridge.

"Hey!"

"Paws off the pie, fat ass," Brick growled.

"Who you calling fat ass?" Butch mocked, sticking his belly and bottom lip out simultaneously as far as they would go for effect. "What's it for, anyway?"

"It's for that picnic thing."

Butch's scowl shifted into a disgusted face. "What picnic thing?"

Brick rolled his eyes, revealing the tinfoil around the blueberry pie. "You know, that thing where we make the lunch and have people bid on us. We did it last year."

"Is it that matchmaking service thing?" Boomer called from the couch.

"They ain't hookin' me up with anybody!" Butch protested. "The only one who hooks Butch up is Butch." He grinned at his own cleverness and Brick rolled his eyes.

"It's not a matchmaking service," he stated simply. "We just have to eat lunch with them. It's for charity."

"So basically they pay for us to make them lunch and go on a date with them?" Butch groaned. "That's gay!"

"You're gay," Boomer muttered under his breath. Luckily, Butch didn't hear him or else the blonde would be buying another new pair of glasses in the next week.

"Last I checked, going on a date with a rich girl was pretty damn straight," Brick quipped. He took a few spices out of the cramped cupboard and placed a pan on the stove.

"Whatever. I'm not doing it. What if I get some ugly bitch?"

Brick lit the stove and threw the still-lit match at his brother, who jumped out of the way just in time so the match fell harmlessly to the floor.

"You're doing it or I'm lighting you on fire," Brick threatened, stomping on the match.

Butch was about to retort when Boomer's phone started to ring in the other room. The dark-haired boy threw his arms in the air with a groan while his blonde brother scrambled to pick up his cell.

"_Allô_?"

"I bet it's the she-devil," Butch muttered to Brick in a singsong voice. He raised his eyebrows in agreement. They watched Boomer's face melt as the person on the other line spoke.

"Oh! Hey Mom!"

Brick and Butch exchanged a glance.

"You were half right," Brick said honestly. Butch nodded, observing Boomer as he conversed with their mother.

"I'm alright," the blonde was cooing into the phone. "How's your pottery class going?"

"Suck-up," Butch growled into Boomer's opposite ear on his way into the living room again. Boomer shoved his face away, glaring at him, but perked right back up again when he spoke to their mother.

"Of course, Mom. We're always behaving. Except for Butch. He had detention again today.

"Fucking tattletale," Butch scowled, plopping down on the couch where his brother had been only a moment ago. Boomer paced back and forth as he spoke, which meant that Butch had to shift his head every time he walked by in order to see the television.

"He has to see a math tutor or he'll fail."

"I LOVE YOU MOM!" The other boy shouted loud enough for the woman to hear. Boomer smirked. He listened for his mother's words on the other line while Butch studied his expression.

"You don't say?" Boomer cried with great exaggeration.

Butch squirmed. "What'd she say?" he moaned uneasily. Boomer ignored him, picking up his pace again.

"That sounds like an awesome idea!" He was grinning in Butch's direction now, his eyebrows puckered on his forehead.

"What? What?!" Butch took hold of Boomer's forearm with his fists.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Boom, put her on speaker," Brick shouted from the kitchen over the sizzling of the pan on the stove.

Boomer did as he'd asked and the room was suddenly graced with the musical voice of their mother.

"...she only lives down the road so it'll be easy for you to see her often!" she was saying, her voice twinkling with her giggles.

"What, Mom? Who lives down the road?" Butch almost shouted at Boomer's phone.

"Oh, hello Butch! Boomie and I were just talking about you! I hear you got in some trouble."

Boomer's face fell at her use of the nickname, and the phone disappeared from his hand as Butch snatched it.

"Yeah, but who were you talking about just now?"

She chuckled, just like Brick often did when he was delightfully amused by his brothers. "I was just telling Boomie that my good friend's daughter goes to CSG, and she's an all-A honours student! You guys remember John, my old friend from the hospital? You used to be so close with his daughters until we moved to San Fran. He ended up taking them here for school a few years ago. But I suppose you boys already knew about that. You always seemed to have a knack for finding them in a crowd."

Their mother's words stunned the boys into silence. Butch met Boomer's eyes and they mirrored each others' shocked expression. In a split second, Brick had peeked his head out of the kitchen, his face pale as a ghost.

"So you're saying these girls have gone to school with us for the past few years and we haven't even known it?" the eldest said to their mother breathlessly.

"I suppose so," she responded with a laugh. "Though I thought for sure at least Butch would have found them."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Butch tested, raising an eyebrow.

"She means you suck at being a ladies man," Boomer remarked. A quick punch in the arm later, and Brick was moving to stand between the two, picking up Boomer's phone from the coffee table.

"You're saying they're here?" the eldest asked breathlessly. "They've been here for years and we didn't even know it?"

"Yes!" She laughed again, "Is that how you boys say 'hi' to your mother now?"

"Sorry Mom, but we've gotta go. Dinner's on." Brick widened his eyes knowingly at the boys and jerked his head towards the kitchen.

"Oh boy, quesadillas!" Butch cried, licking his lips and hopping up from the couch. "Bye Mom!"

"Love ya, Mom," Brick said quickly, following Butch.

Boomer snatched his phone up from the table and swiftly took his mother off speaker, pressing the phone up to his ear. He made absolutely sure his brothers were out of earshot before muttering a quick "_Je t'aime, Maman_, I'll call back as soon as I can," and hanging up to meet the others in the kitchen.

"I have to show you guys something," Brick said immediately. He placed the dish of quesadillas in the center of the tiny table but did not remove the cover for them to dig in. As he turned away, Butch reached across the table and helped himself to the Mexican deliciousness, shoving the wrap into his mouth before Brick could turn back around.

"Mom was talking about those girls we used to be friends with," Brick began, retaking his seat at the table and balancing a stack of photos in his hands, "and I think I figured out where they are now."

"Well duh, she said they were at CSG," Butch mumbled, a whole quesadilla in his mouth with bits falling to the table as he spoke.

Boomer made a face and used his fork to retrieve himself a quesadilla from the dish on the table. "Who are they?"

At this point, Brick turned over the photos for his brothers to have a look at. Butch snatched the very first photo from the stack with his greasy hands and Boomer carefully removed the next one.

"See anything familiar?" Brick asked after a few seconds.

Boomer's nose crinkled and he looked up at Brick. "A little. These are the girls Mom was talking about, right?"

Brick nodded. Butch tossed his photo back onto the pile and helped himself to another quesadilla. "I've never seen 'em in my life," he growled with his mouth full yet again. Brick's eyes rolled up to the ceiling and Boomer sighed.

"But look at this one, Boom," Brick added, pushing another photo across the table at Boomer.

It was the photo of the girl with the butterfly. He watched as Boomer's eyes grew wide in realization.

"Oh my god," the blonde muttered into his hand. "That's Corey's friend. I told you I recognized her from somewhere."

Brick nodded again. "It's her for sure. I'm not sure where the other two are."

He'd barely spoken the last words of his sentence before Butch started choking on his quesadilla. He tossed the photo of the two raven-haired children he'd been holding onto the floor as Boomer thumped him on the back.

"Holy shit man, chew much?" Boomer chuckled and Butch took a deep breath, his eyes glaring wetly at his blonde brother.

"That's the bitch who beat me—" he caught himself before saying it— "er, who wanted to fight me after I got kicked off the swim team."

Both Brick and Boomer raised an eyebrow. "You were kicked off the swim team?"

The raven-haired boy's breath caught in his throat and he blinked.

"Fuck no, I meant I got kicked out of practice, that's all," he lied.

"You got in a fight with a girl?" Brick piped on top of Butch's lie.

"No, I said she wanted to fight me—look! Guys, Scotty and me saw this bitch at the pool. She came right fucking up to me and wanted to fight."

"I'd been meaning to ask where that huge ass bruise on your face came from," said Boomer, looking away innocently.

The skin around said bruise paled and Butch grit his teeth together.

"Which one do you think is the super smart one?" Brick asked to change the subject quickly, studying a black-and-white photograph of the three of the girls together.

"S'gotta be the black-haired one," Boomer noted with a sip of his Coke. "The redhead's friends with my girlfriend and blondes are always just ditzy and stupid."

"Well, she _did_ beat up Butch. That was pretty smart," added Brick.

"It could always be the redhead though," Boomer continued. "What're their names again?"

Brick shrugged and collected the photos before Butch got any more grease on them. But the latter was too busy glaring at Boomer to eat any more.

* * *

_Now that Brick's "mystery" about the photographs was finally figured out, there was no one more affected by it than Butch. What a slap in the face to know that the girl who beat him up in the courtyard was one of his childhood best friends._

_He studied the photo from before now in his room, pretending to be on his laptop so his brothers wouldn't suspect him._

_She sure hadn't changed much. It was quite the mystery as to why he hadn't recognized her before, actually. She still had the same short, dangerous hair, those same livid green eyes and was still tiny and feisty as could be. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember her name._

_That was one thing that really irked him about the whole 'used-to-be-friends' situation. Well, aside from the fact that it was already awkward as fuck. He was supposedly so close with her family as a child and she hadn't changed, but God forbid he should remember her name, right?_

_Maybe Brick or Boomer knew. But he wasn't about to ask. That'd just be fucked up. The question had already been posed once. There was no way he was letting it happen again._

_His hand gingerly touched his face where he'd been punched only a few hours ago. He could still feel the sharp sting of her fist on his face and the biting humiliation of being thrown into the fountain. It was in that moment that he made a silent vow to get revenge on that stupid girl for not only touching his property and embarrassing him in front of the swim team, but also for abusing ten whole years of his life he could never get back._

* * *

_Your reviews will pollinate the endangered fish-scented roses in Yugoslavia._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I wouldn't allow myself sleep until I published this. I hope you all feel special. gee, if certainly took damn long enough. Thanks for being supportive, I love you all :)**

**Disclaimer: IDontOwnAnythingButThisShouldBeATag**

**enjoy! :)**

**xoxo -ml**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Brick wasn't sure why he started sweating all of a sudden when his mother texted him Butch's tutor's phone number. He wasn't exactly sure of much at all, anymore. The only thing he was sure about was the fact that he couldn't remember being this… well… _nervous_ about talking to a girl in his entire life. That is, if he could remember talking to any girls to begin with. The only time he could remember ever actually having personal contact with a girl was in his freshman year, when Butch and one of his friends dared him to smack a girl's ass for ten dollars. He'd done it, stupid mistake, and the button on the cuff of his sleeve had gotten caught in a loose string at the waist of her uniform skirt. He'd all but torn it off her body by the time he got free, and Butch and Scotty had been wetting themselves with laughter. The girl had smacked him straight across the face, and ever since then there hadn't been a girl on campus who even thought about saying a single word to him.

He didn't understand why Butch couldn't just call this girl himself; after all it was _his_ tutor. Yet again, Brick's life trailed back to that old familiar saying: "Am I my brother's keeper?"

He was thrown from his thoughts when the ringing started on the other line. He hadn't even realized he'd tapped call.

"Hello?"

Picturing the girl from the game the other night in his head, he cleared his throat and said "Hi, is this Blossom?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

She seemed so much more polite than the girl he'd seen at the game. "Oh yeah sorry, I'm Brick."

There was a silence on the other end for a moment, and the boy had to check and make sure he hadn't gotten disconnected.

"Brick?" she finally repeated with a hint of a squeak in her voice.

Suddenly he felt very awkward and he wanted to just hang up and pretend this never happened. But his hand was frozen around the phone and his eyes fell on the photograph on his desk.

"That's what I said." He placed the palm of his other hand over top of the photograph so the girl with the worm in her hand was no longer visible and his heartbeat slowed down almost to its normal speed.

"Wow, I didn't think you'd actually call."

Blossom's statement caught him off guard and he frowned. "What do you mean?"

She laughed, a completely different note from the way she'd laughed with Corey, seeming almost too real. "Well, your mother said you'd be calling for your brother, but I never actually expected you to do it." She waited a moment before adding darkly, "You never were one to keep your promises."

Brick decided that this had escalated far too quickly for his liking. He didn't know what this girl was going on about, but it was kind of freaking him out, to be honest.

"And just what makes you say that?" he inquired with a biting tone.

Another laugh escaped the phone into Brick's ear and he scowled. "You haven't changed a bit, Brick Jojo. And you still can't play hockey."

The comment cut through Brick's semi-calm atmosphere. It was one thing that she'd accused him of not keeping his promises (as if she would know), but she actually had the nerve to insult his athletic skills?

"Just who do you think you are?" he demanded, the photo beneath his palm crinkling slightly in his grasp.

"I still find it hilarious that you and your brothers haven't known my sisters and me all along," she sang. "Not surprising, but still hilarious."

"How can you act like you still know who we are?" His voice lowered and he glared at the back of his hand. "You haven't seen me or my brothers in six years."

"And yet we've been going to school together for at least three years and you haven't even noticed. You couldn't even recognize Buttercup, and she hasn't grown an inch since she was twelve."

"Why are you being such a bitch to me?"

This time, she laughed the laugh he'd heard the other night. The fake one. "You honestly don't remember?"

He was silent. He couldn't remember anything.

"Well Brick, I can't say I'm surprised, but you have got some nerve calling me after what you did."

There was another weighted silence as he tried to process her words.

"And what exactly is it that I did?"

"Is there something you need me for," she cut him short, "or are you just going to ask me stupid questions all day?"

Through gritted teeth he answered, "My mother said you'd help tutor Butch."

She sighed. "If I didn't like your mother so much I wouldn't be doing this… I'll be over tomorrow after the picnic auction. Tell Butch to be ready with his algebra homework."

And without even so much as a satisfying hang-up click, she was gone. Brick's hand fully crushed the photograph now, crumpling it up into a ball and furiously throwing it across the room towards the overflowing trash. He missed.

What had he done that was so horrifyingly tragic to Blossom that she had the right to treat him like a straight up piece of shit? He wracked his brain but could remember nothing from his meager childhood.

He dared to flick through the rest of the photographs in the stack that he'd printed out the day before. Most of them were of either he or his brothers, which was pretty understandable. His mother was the kind of woman who couldn't fill enough photo albums with photos of her kids even if she documented every second of their lives. He flipped past the ... er... _interesting _shots of Boomer playing in the sandbox, and some very blackmail-worthy ones of Butch with a Mohawk looking very aggravated. There were even a few of the other two girls, the tall blonde and the short, feisty raven-hair. But the only photo of Blossom was the one of her with the butterfly, which Brick of course wanted nothing more to do with. There was something ridiculous about the face she was making in the photograph, something mocking about her crinkled nose and squinty gaze. He imagined Blossom with that same look on her face during their phone call. As if he were the crawling butterfly in her hands. She may remember him pretty well, but he barely had any memory of her.

He barely even knew this girl and he already could not stand her.

* * *

By Sunday afternoon, word of Butch's "encounter" with the raven-haired girl had spread throughout the entire campus. Which, of course, meant that every girl from CSG was dying for a glance at the newly dubbed "bad boy", who'd taken on the toughest girl in school.

As the boys tried to casually make their way into the auditorium for the auction, they were bombarded by looks from every single person they passed, even by some teachers and staff members. They all wanted to get a look at the disgusting purple bruise on the side of Butch's face.

Of course, the only one completely oblivious to the special treatment was Butch himself, who had been rambling on about his uncomfortable outfit (each of the boys were sporting a rather fancy tuxedo, which was the required dress code for the event).

"And this stupid tux is chafing my—"

"Butch," said Brick carefully, swinging his picnic basket, "I don't know if you're too dumb to figure this out or not, but in case you are, every person in the auditorium is staring at you, probably because of your stupid encounter with that girl the other day."

"What, you mean when he got beaten up?" Boomer chimed in with a laugh.

All but the bruise on Butch's face flushed beet red and he swung his basket at both if his brothers, who ducked out of the way just in time.

"Let them stare," Butch grumbled, fumbling with his forest green bowtie. "We all look like retards anyways." (Though his non-bruised cheek did still have a slight pink hue).

"Well dressed retards," corrected a high, familiar voice from behind them.

Boomer turned around immediately with a grin on his face, Brick glanced back over his shoulder at the sound of Corey's voice, and Butch pulled his DS from his pocket (which was surprisingly not damaged from the fountain incident), pretending as if he hadn't heard the girl say anything.

Corey wrapped her arms around Boomer's waist with a giggle and he continued to walk backwards to keep up with his brothers.

She had on a short violet skirt with black leggings underneath. The v-neck of a plain white t-shirt peeked out from the unzipped bust of her black North Face jacket. Black flats adorned her feet, a cute pair with little bows on the tops. Her hair was pulled back into a plain silver headband with a silver bow at the top. She liked bows.

"Stop, you're going to muss up my suit," Boomer said with a laugh.

Butch groaned and tugged at his cufflinks. "All this disgusting mushy shit is giving me a headache," he muttered. "I need to smoke something."

"Because that'll surely help your headache," Brick grumbled sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. Butch glared at him but said nothing.

"What's in the basket?" Corey giggled, peeking inside.

Boomer slammed his hand down on top of hers, shutting the basket. "Ah, ah, _ma cherie_, no peeking until lunchtime!"

Corey pouted. Boomer eyed her softly but sternly.

It was about that time that the four arrived at the entrance to the stage, and they had to bid Corey goodbye (to the great relief of Brick and Butch and the distress of Boomer).

"You're sure you've got this?" Boomer asked his girlfriend worriedly. The last thing he wanted was to be bought by some random girl from CSG.

She simply smiled in response. "It's okay, baby, nobody's going to bid on you, they know you're mine." She nuzzled her nose to his and Butch made a gagging noise. As usual, Corey ignored this and, just to spite him, planted a rather _passionate_ kiss on Boomer's lips.

"Remember when I was hungry?" Butch said loudly to Brick, "Not anymore."

Brick let out his breath in a puff of air but refrained from comment. Most of the time, it was easy for him to keep his cool in situations such as these, especially now that he was used to his brother's girlfriend and her obnoxiously annoying ways.

Boomer's face was red as a tomato by the time they all three entered through the backstage doors into the auditorium, the faintest traces of Corey's bright red lipstick smeared on his face. He shyly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, hoping at least some of his embarrassed look would vanish before he got onstage.

Each of the boys took a number with the woman backstage, receiving rather vague instructions from her as they were shoved into place with another boy from their grade by the name of James.

Boomer was number six, James was seven, and Brick and Butch were eight and nine. Butch, of course, ever mature, wouldn't stop giggling about the fact that if he stood next to Boomer they'd read a rather inappropriate number. He had been messing with his DS for a few moments before Brick ordered him to put it away. The eldest brother chatted tersely with James, who was a fellow member of the Photography Club. Boomer simply stood in place nervously, repeatedly pushing up his glasses and adjusting his bowtie until it was perfect.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the woman from before announced over the microphone to the audience, "welcome, all of you, to CityVille High's fifth annual lunch date auction night!"

Butch glared at Brick, remembering his promise that this was "not a date". Brick pretended not to notice and concentrated on the woman onstage.

"Today we have just over one hundred very handsome young gentlemen up for auction, available to any eligible female in the audience!" She giggled. The boys all rolled their eyes at the woman's unnecessary cheerfulness. "If this is your first time joining us, here's a brief relay of the rules. Each of our gentlemen have prepared a yummy picnic lunch that they'd like to share with you! Every female in the audience will have the chance to bid on their favourite gentleman and the highest bidder will earn a picnic lunch with him! All proceeds benefit our PTA." She giggled again. Boomer was sweating and Butch was grinning. "So, if there are no questions, we'll begin!"

The woman, who was called Mrs. Hendricks, gestured to a sandy-haired boy with a number one on his chest. He nervously carried his basket across the stage and a few people in the audience politely applauded.

And just like that, the ceremony began. The sandy-haired boy was 'sold' to a girl in dark pleated braids. Number two, a short blonde freshman, was whisked away by a giggling sophomore girl. Number three was bought by his mother. Four and five went fast. Boomer's heart skipped a hundred beats when he realized it was his turn. His basket banged against his knees as he climbed up onto the stage, Mrs. Hendricks smiling warmly at him.

"Next, we have Boomer Jojo, a member of the French Club." Mrs. Hendricks read from the little card she was given. "He likes to skateboard and play video games. Shall I start the bidding at ten dollars?"

Before she had even finished speaking, Corey was up out of her seat, shouting, "FIFTEEN DOLLARS!"

Boomer could practically hear his brothers' moans of annoyance, but he didn't care. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. Corey had this one in the bag. He met her eyes, locked gazed with her, smiled.

"I hear fifteen, can I have twenty? Do I hear twenty dollars?"

_Shut up, Mrs. Hendricks. Stop asking them to beat Corey. I'm hers._ Je suis à elle. He didn't look away from his girlfriend's eager blue eyes.

"Fifteen going once, fifteen going twice..."

"Twenty!"

Boomer's heart sank. Who had dared bid on him against his girlfriend? An urgent murmur rippled through the crowd as they searched for the insane owner of the tiny voice who had spoken.

Boomer's eyes swept the crowd of girls, Corey's outraged shouts echoing in his ears. His eyes caught on a cute blonde girl with long curly pigtails and soft blue eyes. She was dressed sane enough; she wore a pair of plain black yoga pants and a tie-dyed sea blue t-shirt. Her arm was raised in the air with her auction card attached to it, her face reading an expression of curiosity, not malice or ill intent. The girl standing by her, the girl Brick was obsessed with, Corey's friend, frantically tried to get her to back down her bid, speaking urgently to her. But the blonde girl's curious expression didn't falter. She just smiled and spoke calmly back to the redhead, her eyes fixated on Boomer. She smiled at him.

His lungs caught in his throat and he choked a little bit. _This was the girl from Brick's photographs._

All of this happened in a matter of seconds. The auditorium was in a silent uproar, and Butch was cackling obnoxiously backstage.

"_Je ne crois pas qu'il,_" he muttered as his girlfriend stormed over to the blonde girl's seat.

"Okay, settle down everyone, settle down," Mrs. Hendricks yelled into the microphone. The auditorium shushed and Corey stopped mid-stalk on her way to the blonde girl. "I heard twenty. Do I hear twenty-five?"

Corey's eyes flicked from the blonde girl to Mrs. Hendricks to Boomer again. The pleading look in his eyes must have been enough to freak her out, because she nodded and threw up her card.

"Twenty-five."

"Thirty."

She hadn't even waited a beat. And she was so calm about it. She kept her eyes on Boomer and her card in the air all throughout Corey's "Thirty-five!" and her own "Forty."

"Forty-five." This time Corey was hesitant. Boomer could feel the sweat on his brow. He knew his girlfriend's limit, and it was pretty close to fifty. If the blonde continued to fight...

"Fifty." The bid came out smooth and sure. She wasn't afraid at all.

"Do I hear fifty-five?" Mrs. Hendricks asked, directing the question at Corey.

Boomer's girlfriend frantically searched her pockets for anything more than what she had, but came up short. She stuck out her bottom lip in defeat and stormed out of the auditorium before anyone could see her cry.

The oblivious Mrs. Hendricks shrugged. "Sold, to the young lady with the pigtails!"

The crowd awkwardly applauded for her, and she skipped forward to claim her prize. Boomer cowered behind Mrs. Hendricks.

"I can't go with that girl," he whispered to her.

"She payed for you, dear, I'm afraid you must."

She pushed him forward to meet the girl, who smiled kindly and offered him her hand. He could feel every eye in the auditorium on him as he inwardly debated his next move. He was just about to turn and run when his ears picked up his brother's voice from behind the curtain.

"He won't do it, he's too scared!"

So of course he had to assume that was a dare. And Boomer had long since known never to turn down a dare. With one last glance at the door where Corey had barged out, he reached out and took her hand.

Everyone started talking again, and Boomer realized what he had just done. But it was too late to back out now. She smiled at him and pulled him away from the stage, from his brothers, from the crowd. She pulled him outside into the chilly air and asked him if he had a car.

He shook his head no and she led him to a white pickup truck in the parking lot. He worriedly pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders and she laughed.

"I'm not abducting you," she said. "I just thought we could eat out in my car since the cafeteria's bound to be full of questioning imbeciles."

He nodded. "_Ça me paraît bien_," he said quietly, praying that she didn't come close to understanding.

She did.

"_Merveilleux_!" she responded, unlocking the doors so they could jump in.

He stared at her.

"You can speak French?"

Her face flushed. "Oh my, I didn't even realize it." She totally did. "Yes, I'm in French Club at CSG, too."

The passenger side door was ajar and the girl sat in the driver's seat. He stared at her through the open door, wanting so very badly to hop inside but so very afraid that he'd get in trouble with his girlfriend.

"Wow," he murmured. He adjusted his glasses. Was this real life?

She ignored his unsure, bewildered look. "Well, come on in then, I've got the heat on." He didn't move. She smiled again. "Come on, I don't bite." He still didn't move. "_S'il vous plaît_?"

That did it. He couldn't resist joining this girl in the car. His girlfriend never let him speak French around her. And here was a girl who spoke it almost as well as he himself. Maybe they could have a conversation. In French. The possibilities were endless. He jumped up on the seat and slammed the door.

She had been right, the heat was on and it felt magnificent. He shimmied out of his suit coat and draped it over the back of his seat before presenting the basket to his companion.

"_Mon nom est Bubbles, par la voie,_" she said with a grin. She stuck out her hand to him. "I hope I didn't upset you by buying you."

"_Je suis Boomer,_" he responded. Something jolted in the pit of his stomach as he took her hand for the second time that evening. "And it's alright. I needed a break from my girlfriend, anyways."

His mind screamed at him in French. What on earth did he just say?! A break from his girlfriend? This was borderline cheating, he knew it was.

But for some reason that didn't bother him as much as it should have.

When she smiled, her clear blue eyes shimmered like Corey's. Maybe even brighter.

* * *

James was bought by a cute little black girl with purple streaks in her hair. Butch writhed with envy because he found it totally hot. When it was Brick's turn, he calmly took the stage and stood at attention while Mrs. Hendricks read out his information.

"Brick Jojo plays second forward on our very own Cityville Boys' hockey team, and he is also an active member of the Photography Club. He likes to cook! I'll start the bidding at ten dollars."

There was a split second of hesitation before three girls in the audience shouted out at once.

"Ten, I hear ten dollars," Mrs. Hendricks pointed to the first girl she saw, a short girl with short brown hair. "Do I hear fifteen?"

Brick's heart skipped forty beats. Blossom was there, in the audience. And she was raising her auction card. _She_ _was bidding on_ _him._

"Fifteen!" The redhead shouted.

The third unidentified girl said nothing to contend with them. The brunette and the redhead went back and forth for a few numbers, the brunette finally backing down when they reached thirty-five.

"Sold, to the girl in red!"

Blossom had bought him for thirty-five dollars. Brick didn't like the look on her face. She was smirking as she handed the tenant her cash and turned to look at him. Her blood red peacoat made her eyes look even pinker. He half smiled, half sweat-dropped at the girl. What the hell was she plotting? He could be sure, he'd give her a piece of his mind as soon as they were out of earshot. He climbed down from the stage and followed her into the cafeteria without a single word. He cracked his knuckles (no, he wasn't nervous! He was trying to act tough, that's all). This was going to get ugly.

* * *

"And then there was one," Butch jokingly muttered to himself as he stomped onto the stage. He tapped his foot impatiently as his little biography was read aloud to thousands of adoring fans (or so he liked to think of it).

"This is Butch Jojo. He is a member of the swim team" —he cringed— "and spends his gym period in the weight room. He enjoys playing video games and playing guitar in his spare time. Shall we raise the bid to ten dollars?"

He smirked because he was expecting hundreds of girls to jump up at once, to screen his name and beg to own him as they had last year. He remembered it well, now. The infamous Butch Jojo had a way with the ladies.

Funny, he could have sworn there was a dead silence in the room. Was he deaf? Did he lose his hearing? He peered down at the audience. Not a single girl was standing or raising her card. It really was dead silent. All of a sudden, the whispers started. Girls turned to each other and whispered his name under their breath—they knew full well who he was. The dangerous bad boy who wasn't afraid to take on the crazy fighter girl from CSG. Nobody knew whether to be afraid or congratulatory.

"Anyone?" Mrs. Hendricks begged. Butch's face flushed. She was making it worse. "Ten dollars? Come on, now..."

No response. Nothing. He could hear crickets chirping in the distance. Shit. Shit shit shit. Hang on, maybe he had ten bucks in his wallet. He'd buy himself. Fuck these bitches.

His hand dove into his pocket, but what happened next startled him into keeping it there.

"Why the hell not, I'll buy him."

Heads swiveled to the back of the auditorium. Speak of the mother fucking devil. There she stood, in all her meager height, casually broadcasting her auction card as if it were just another offering to the heavens. Her choppy black locks framed her small round face; her heavy glasses framed her deep green eyes. Her shirt was a plain black one with a graphic of a skull printed on the front. The skull had on a pair of glasses. Her tight blue jeans were cuffed at the bottom.

And she stared. Unblinkingly. Emotionlessly. Like a statue.

People gasped. This was crazy. She had just beaten him up; it had been her that had given him that ugly black eye, and yet here she was, offering to pay to eat lunch with him.

"Oh no, I'm not letting all three of you steal them away, you and your crazy sisters are nothing but trouble!"

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. Butch internally screamed. It was _Corey. _What the fuck was she doing here?!

"Fifteen dollars!"

_What in the name of all things good_ _and_ _sane_?!

"What?" he blurted at her bid.

"Okay then," the short green-eyed girl said at the same time with a shrug, plopping back down in her seat.

Corey stormed to the front of the auditorium just as Mrs. Hendricks was calling "Fifteen dollars going once, fifteen going twice, sold to this young lady right here."

Corey practically threw the money at the tenant and grabbed Butch's arm, yanking him off the stage. This time, nobody clapped. Nobody said a word as she forced him into the cafeteria.

"Ow, okay, what the fuck you crazy bitch," Butch cried when she threw him into the cafeteria.

"Look, I spent a long time saving up the money to buy my boyfriend at this auction, and if that blonde ditzy _cunt _thinks she's getting anywhere without a fight, she's sorely mistaken."

Butch blinked. He'd never heard Corey use such foul language before. "Good for fucking you, do you want a cookie?"

She gripped his arm tighter as her eyes scanned the cafeteria.

"The fuck does this have to do with me, anyways?" he whined. "Why couldn't you have just let me be bought by that short chick?"

She laughed, a deep, menacing note that was almost disbelieving. "Right, and have her beat you up again? Trust me, I saved your life back there."

He didn't have much time to be confused about her comment before she groaned in annoyance again.

"Where the heck is my boyfriend and that fake-faced blonde bitch?"

"They went out that way," some girl passing by responded to her question.

Corey blinked. "Outside? But why would they go out there?"

The girl shrugged and walked away before she could be interrogated any further. Corey fumed and dragged Butch by the ear out the exit door.

* * *

Bubbles' laugh echoed in Boomer's ears long after she'd finished doing it. She had such a free way of looking at life that he just had to know more about. She loved the beach but hated the ocean. She could drink an entire gallon of milk if she paced herself in the day. She owned sixty-three pairs of sunglasses, but she's only worn three of them. And she loved French. Just like him.

It was so strange. Ever since he'd started dating Corey, Boomer hadn't spoken to a girl in what seemed like an eternity. It felt so weird to just be sitting here, having a casual conversation with a girl who wasn't his girlfriend. They'd exchanged phone numbers so they could keep in touch after this 'not-date', and Bubbles even offered to drive him back to the boys' dorm, even though it was only a few blocks away.

The snow had started in, and they were just cleaning up the remains of their lunch when he saw something that sent his entire lovely afternoon spiraling into chaos. His girlfriend was dragging Butch by the ear and storming towards the car with a furious expression on her face.

"What is it?" Bubbles asked him, sensing the sudden fear on his face.

"It's—it's Corey."

He'd barely spat out her name before she was tapping on the drivers' side window for Bubbles to open the door. She turned the key and shut off the car, opening the door.

"Hi, Corey," Bubbles said cheerfully, oblivious to the fact that she was fuming.

"Why did you bid on my boyfriend, and what is he doing in your car?"

She fiercely let go of Butch's ear and he winced, holding the bruised side of his face tenderly.

"Well," Bubbles said with a half smile, "we came out here because the cafeteria would be too crowded. And I just wanted to see him again, and talk to him after all these years. Right, Boomer?"

Corey blinked. Boomer's eyes flicked from Corey to Bubbles, from blue to blue. Shit, what was going on here?

"You two know each other?" Corey all but screeched at Boomer. Butch's jaw dropped as he realized who this girl was.

"Whoa," he said with a low whistle. Corey whirled around to glare at him, and he said nothing else.

Boomer was frantic. "Yeah, we knew each other as kids," he said urgently. "Our parents used to be really good friends."

He had no idea what he was saying. He didn't even know if this really _was_ the little girl he'd been friends with as a child. But if it meant his girlfriend wasn't pissed off at him, hey, he'd take it.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Huh. I see. Well I'm sure you guys have caught up by now, and if you don't mind, I'd like my boyfriend back please."

Boomer met Bubbles' eyes again. The dazzling blue was so different from Corey's, but at the same time there was so much alike about them, it was scary.

"Sure, you can have him." Bubbles' voice wasn't scared, or even worried. In fact, she sounded happy. Or amused.

He collected his basket and the remains from their lunch and stepped out of her truck. He walked around the other side to stand by Corey, trying to ignore the whip noises Butch was making behind them.

"Good boy," Corey smiled at him. She turned back to Bubbles. "I even brought you my consolation prize."

Pulling on his ear again, Corey thrust Butch at Bubbles, but not without snatching his full basket out of his hands. She placed Boomer's now empty basket into Butch's arms and stalked off, a forlorn-looking Boomer in tow.

Butch stared after her with wide green eyes.

"Damn, that boy is whipped."

Bubbles nodded with a low whistle. The awkward silence was soon broken by the loud grumble of Butch's stomach. He glanced sadly at the empty basket in his hands.

Bubbles raised an eyebrow. "You want a ride home?"

* * *

Maybe Blossom had schizophrenia. Or maybe she had bipolar disease. Either way, she had so many different personalities, it was impossible for Brick to keep track of them all.

The first thing she said when they entered the cafeteria was an apology for the way she'd acted the night before.

"I felt horrible for a long time after we hung up," she said in an official voice. "We got off on the wrong foot, it had seemed, so I wanted to make things right before I came to tutor Butch." She smiled and gestured to their picnic layout on the ugly, paint-peeled cafeteria table. "I figured this was the least I could do."

Brick's head was spinning like an out of control merry-go-round. What sort of trickery was Blossom trying to pull on him? Could this really be the very same Blossom Utonium who'd told him off last night and called him all those things? This very same Blossom Utonium, who he decided he hated and wanted nothing to do with?

"I-I don't understand," he muttered aloud, his brow furrowed. "What was all that about last night?"

She broke eye contact with him and suddenly found great interest in her napkin, which she'd folded across her lap. After a few deep breaths (during which Brick tried his very hardest to keep his temper at a low level), she closed her eyes and opened her mouth to answer him.

"To be honest, Brick, I thought that of the two of us it would be you who would be the hostile one. I still find it hard to believe you can't remember me, even after all those years." She met his eyes at last, holding his gaze.

His eyebrows furrowed. "I remember you now," he lied.

She chuckled and broke their eye contact to sip her lemonade. "Did you make this?" She gestured to the meal.

"I—yeah, I did," he said slowly. "Why?"

"I always had this feeling you'd have a knack for cooking. You always had the craziest ideas for lunch those summer afternoons. We were your guinea pigs."

Brick's fuse was getting shorter by the minute. He tapped his plastic fork angrily against his now-empty plate and frowned.

"You're acting like our friendship is so ancient—like you're some old lady recalling the past. I don't know what you think this is, exactly—some sort of old school reunion or reminiscing..." —he waved his hand in front of his face in search of a word— "_thing_, but just because we were such great friends as five-year-olds doesn't mean—"

"You think this is some sort of friendship-rekindling attempt?" Blossom's voice was surprisingly calm given the context, but her words still stung.

Brick frowned. "Well, I just thought... Isn't that what this is all about?" He meant the fact that she'd made the effort to apologize. But she took it wrongly.

"Gee, Brick, I thought I'd be doing you a favour by bidding on you like that."

He could feel his temper slipping from his grasp. "It's not like I wouldn't have been bid on at all!" he exclaimed. "There were plenty of girls out there who would have been happy to have lunch with me. Unlike you, you ungrateful—"

"_Ungrateful_?!" she practically screamed. "I'm not being the least bit _ungrateful_. If anything, I was thankful to know that you aren't the deranged psychopath you once were. Or perhaps I was wrong. Hm."

"Why do you accuse me of things I have no recollection of doing?" he snapped. "I understand if you've got some reason to be upset with me, but it'd be nice to know about it rather than be left in the dark!"

She huffed. "I would've liked to know, too, Brick." Her voice became very low and almost calm. "But that never did happen, did it?"

In two and a half swift moves, she'd shoved her chair away from the table and stormed out of the cafeteria in a wave of strawberry-scented perfume and a swish of long auburn hair.

Brick sat, dumbfounded, not sure whether to be afraid or angry. He was both, though, and he wasn't entirely sure why. As a matter of fact, he wasn't entirely sure of anything anymore.

* * *

_Review please, I need the encouragement :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi, guess what? This is probably about to be the worst chapter you will ever read in the history of fanfictions. Seriously, it blows. But I felt awful for keeping you guys so on the edge with the story, so I forced myself to crank out this chapter. And even though it sucks, you now know that I am still alive.**

**As for the contest, I've extended the deadline because I have received exactly zero entries! Yay! Okay but seriously people. Visit my profile. It will literally take two point five seconds unless your internet is on the fritz. Think about entering my contest. It'll be fun, I promise. Thanks in advance for reading and reviewing and favouriting and following and entering my contest and gosh you guys just do a whole lot of stuff for me, don't you? :D**

**I love you guys, and enjoy!**

**xoxo -ml**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Now that Butch was no longer on the swim team, he had oodles of time to goof off and basically do whatever the heck he wanted. Well, he _would_ have done whatever he wanted, had his brother not been so damn _insistent_ that he get this tutor.

To be quite honest, Brick was unsure if Blossom was even going to show up for their pre-planned tutoring session after what happened at lunch. She had said she'd come over right afterwards, but it had been two hours and there was still no sign of the girl. Nonetheless, Brick told Butch that if he even thought about leaving and embarrassing him like that, he'd be doing the dishes for a week.

So Butch was house jailed and bored to tears when his DS finally died on him again. He nearly tore up the entire bedroom in search for his charger, but to no avail. To add insult to injury, Brick made him clean up the mess he made so their company would "feel welcome". But after a snide remark about Brick playing Mother yet again, he dropped the issue and locked himself in the darkroom to avoid further ridicule.

Boomer, amidst all this, was _supposed_ to be making it up to his girlfriend for having lunch with Bubbles, but to be quite honest, after that sweet taste of freedom, he just needed a little space. As soon as their "lunch" was over, Boomer walked Corey home and bolted for his own dorm before she could change her mind. He mulled over the situation by watching a Breaking Bad marathon on TV and tightening the wheels on his skateboard, all the while ignoring Corey's phone calls and texts.

With Boomer's attention glued to the TV, Brick locked up dozing off in his darkroom and Butch mourning the loss of his charger in his room, the peace was unexpectedly broken by a muffled buzz at the door panel that echoed throughout the dorm.

No one moved for a few seconds, before Butch shouted for Boomer to get it, considering he was the closest one to the door. Boomer sighed but did as he asked, placing his board gingerly on the coffee table and shuffling over to the intercom. He held down the button and spoke into the microphone with a yawn.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, Boomer? It's Blossom. Could you let me up, please?"

Despite CSG's strict rules of 'No Boys Allowed' in their dorm rooms, the counterpart school was particularly lenient on allowing girls in. The only rule was that they had to check in and they couldn't stay later than eleven at night. Boomer pressed a button on the intercom and the door was buzzed open for the girl downstairs. He didn't wait for her to come to the door before opening it a crack so she could let herself in and calling to his brothers, "Blossom's here!"

At the news, Brick jolted awake, a few of his photographs clinging to his face as he sat up. He tore them off and threw them down on the table, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. He dashed to the bathroom which was across the hall from the darkroom and splashed his face with cold water. He ran his hands through his hair a few more times, trying to pat down the kink from sleeping on it. Why was he even trying to look decent? It was only Blossom, he remembered with a scowl. He shut off the water and dried his face, this time mussing up his hair a little bit to counteract the fixing he'd only just done.

As soon as he'd stepped into the living room, he saw Blossom blow through the door in a wave of snow-speckled orange hair. She kicked off her feet on the mat and let out a long breath, shivering from the heat of the dorm room. She was wearing the familiar pink North Face jacket and the same pair of yoga pants from earlier. As she took off her boots by the door, she laughed.

"It sure is coming down like a blizzard out there. You guys are lucky I'm even here!"

Boomer, unknowing of the day's previous bout with Brick and the other redhead, laughed politely and went back to tinkering with his board. Butch emerged with a yawn from the bedroom, his hair standing up on one end of his head. He was dressed in a pair of green-and-white plaid pajama pants and a grey wife beater.

"Hey," the ebony-haired teen greeted Blossom, yawning again. He had his algebra book in hand and, to Brick's surprise, appeared ready to work.

Blossom's cheery expression fell when she laid eyes on Butch's face. The bruise caught her eye first, then all at once he struck her as familiar. Why hadn't she noticed it earlier? Perhaps it was because he had been so well-dressed, or that he was so far away she hadn't had a chance to get a good look at him.

"Butch?" she stammered, disbelieving. "It was _you_ in the girls' room that day?"

Butch frowned. "Uh, yeah, I kinda thought you already knew that..."

Eyes flashing from Blossom to his brother, Brick frowned, too. "You were in the girl's _bathroom_?"

Holding his algebra book in front of him for defense, he suppressed another yawn and argued, "I was high, okay?"

Blossom and Brick both spoke at the same time, the former's voice going up an octave.

"You were _high_?!"

"You retard."

"Don't talk like that, Brick," Blossom scolded. It was the first time she had even looked at him since her entry into the dorm. She took a step closer to Butch, leaving Brick to stare at the back of her head in utter confusion.

The algebra book still covering his face, Butch cringed at the sudden proximity of his body and the girl's, moving to back up but realizing he couldn't because there was a wall directly behind him.

"I'd smack you if that bruise weren't already enough to scare you," Blossom threatened, her arms crossed over her chest.

"You could smack the other side of his face!" Boomer called from the couch.

"I'll smack both sides of your face," Butch grumbled back at his brother.

"Hey, no one's smacking anyone," Brick chimed in.

Blossom whirled around to narrow her eyes at him. "What are you, their mother?"

Butch and Boomer burst into fits of laughter, to Blossom's confusion, and Brick threw his arms up into the air and stomped out of the room in defeat.

She wasn't sure why it had happened, but anything done to humiliate Brick had immediately put a smile on her face and she turned to face Butch again, who stopped laughing at once.

"Just don't let it happen again, or it'll be more than just your face that has a bruise."

At her words, he felt a sharp pain in the you-know-where. He winced but nodded in agreement.

"Shall we get started then?" the girl asked, shrugging off her coat. Underneath it, she had on a red hoodie with the letters 'CSG' printed on in bright blue.

Butch led the way into the kitchen, tossing his book down on the table. She threw her coat over the back of one of the chairs and sat right down without being asked. Butch followed her lead and took his seat across from her.

As he opened his book to the section he was working on, Blossom observed him with a frown.

"You look a lot like Buttercup," she said after a minute or two of his clueless flipping.

The name rang in his ears like a gong. So much so, he had to take a finger to his ear and clean it out before asking, "Who?"

She smirked. "Don't play dumb. Buttercup, my sister."

He blinked. "The short girl? With the nerd glasses?"

"The one who punched you in the face?" she added with a sly grin.

"How'd you know about that?"

The disbelieving look on her face was more than clear as he finally found the page he was looking for.

"I know about a lot of things, Butch Jojo."

His eyebrows crinkled. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Blossom reached behind her and pulled her phone from her North Face pocket, unlocking it and playing absentmindedly with its contents.

"Nothing, now can we get to work here?" she said passively. "You should probably learn exponential functions before you turn thirty."

Butch rolled his eyes but set to work, chewing his pencil as he listened to her instructions.

* * *

_Hey, it's Bubbles. I wasn't sure if you still had my number or not. Anyways, it's Friday, and since Blossom had something to do tonight, I figured you could join me and BC for movies? Let me know._

Boomer stared at the phone in his hand. He hasn't realized that it had been Bubbles who'd sent him that message, not Corey. The message had been sent over an hour ago, and he cursed himself for being so negligent. He quickly tapped out a response, hoping it wasn't too late.

_Hey Bubbles, I saved your number, don't worry! I hope I'm not too late in replying, but I'd love to be the backup sister._

It sounded foolish and he knew it, but he still didn't know Bubbles or her sisters as well as he used to, so he figured he'd use his sense of humour to win them over. Hopefully.

When he didn't receive a text back right away, Boomer meandered into the kitchen to find something to eat. Blossom and Butch were still going at it, trying to tackle the fifty problems Butch had been assigned for homework. Butch was usually a pain in the ass, but believe it or not, he could actually be quite the hard worker when he committed himself to it. But Boomer wasn't a complete idiot, and he could tell part of the reason his brother was working so diligently was because he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of yet _another_ Utonium sister. That and, if Brick knew he was slacking off, he'd be doing all of the laundry for a month, too.

Boomer silently reached for a granola bar, trying not to be a distraction to the pair working at the table, but cursed himself when the wrapper caught on the box and the entire thing came crashing down onto the counter.

"Sorry," he mumbled at the two's glares. He hurriedly cleaned up the mess he'd made and shoved the entire box back in the cupboard, chomping into his snack before either of them could yell at him.

Slinking out of the kitchen, he made his way into the bedroom, which he found to be empty. Brick must've been locked up in the darkroom. Raising an eyebrow, Boomer noticed that Brick's desk was uncharacteristically messy. With another bite of his granola bar, he shuffled through a few of the papers that lay strewn about the place. One thing in particular caught his eye and he lifted a crumpled square of photo paper from beneath a stack of notebook sheets.

The photo seemed to have been crumpled up several times over, then repeatedly smoothed back out again. Boomer observed the image on the crumpled up piece of photo paper. It was the photo of the young Blossom, a butterfly resting on her hand and a disgusted look on her face.

He laughed to himself, imagining Blossom's reaction when she discovered this photograph's existence. He pocketed the photo and turned his attention back to the rest of the photos lying on the desk when Brick walked in.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Boomer should have been way over the threatening look Brick gave him whenever he touched his stuff, but to be quite honest, he wasn't. His heart jumped into his throat and he immediately backed away from the desk.

"Nothing, just looking for my French II worksheet," Boomer responded coolly.

Brick didn't want to hear it. "Why would it be on _my_ desk?"

Snorting, Boomer edged his way around his brother and replied, "Honestly, your desk is like a black hole. I'm surprised you can ever find anything in there."

The redhead was still skeptical of his brother's behaviour, but he let Boomer leave the room and slide into the kitchen, where Blossom and Butch were just about wrapping it up.

"Basically, all you have to remember is the different directions your graph will be going," Blossom was telling her pupil, who stared back at her with wide eyes. "Once you've got that, I think you can take care of pretty much anything."

Boomer slunk around the edge of the room, trying his hardest not to interrupt, but trying to catch Blossom's immediate attention at the same time.

"You mean I actually understand this? I can do it?" Butch cried disbelievingly.

His tutor laughed. "Well, I don't know, that's up to you to decide."

"I feel like I actually might pass a test on this stuff."

"That's good!" Blossom encouraged. She set down the pencil and rubbed her eyes with a sigh. "You're a lot easier to teach than Bubbles, that's for sure."

At the mention of the girl, Boomer momentarily forgot the photograph in his pocket and checked his phone. It was on silent, and he had two new text messages from Bubbles.

_Sorry, BC and I decided to leave it at a girl's night._

and

_You can join us for the next one though, I promise! :)_

He exhaled deeply at her words. He wasn't sure whether to be extremely excited or disappointed. He settled on forgetting the matter altogether and showing Blossom the photograph before she left or Brick realized it was missing.

Blossom was just helping Butch organize a few of his algebra papers when he held out the photograph to her.

"Look what I found," he said, the excitement in his voice plain. He leaned over the table to observe her reaction to the memento with an enormous grin on his face. "Brick printed them a few days ago and I thought you could use a laugh."

Blossom stared at the crumpled photo in her hands, eyes searching the printed face of the little girl in the image. She was speechless for almost a minute as she looked. She scanned the photo until it was burned into her memory, and then she looked up at Boomer.

"Brick got these printed?" she finally whispered. "There are more?"

"What did Brick do?" Brick asked, marching into the room, looking determined about something.

Blossom's blank stare turned almost instantly on Brick, and he was nearly thrown backward with the intensity of her eyes.

"You printed these, these... photos of us, yeah?"

Brick blinked. "Where did you—_Boomer!"_

"I was only trying to make her laugh, okay!" Boomer cried in defense.

"This is why I told you _never"—_he snatched the photograph out of Blossom's hands—"to touch my stuff!"

"Excuse me, I was looking at that."

Brick glared at Blossom. "It's not yours to look at." He smoothed out the photo on his chest, trying to rid the paper of crinkles, but it was pretty much a hopeless case. "This is very precious to me."

His brothers shot him questioning glances, and Blossom's furrowed eyebrows wove into a surprised smirk.

"'Precious' to you?" she repeated. "Why?"

Brick's face flushed. "I—I don't know, okay, I just..." His eyes flickered from Boomer to Blossom and back again. "_Don't_ touch my stuff!" He whirled around and stormed out of the kitchen.

Awkward silence ensued for a few moments before Butch broke it by making a loud snorting sound.

"My brother, the asshole."

"Welcome to the story of my life," Boomer added in an agreeing tone.

Butch nodded knowingly but Blossom still appeared a bit confused.

"As much as I'd love to stick around and chat with you boys," she said finally, shaking off the confusion for now, "I'm missing movie night with the girls for this, so if you don't mind..."

A twang echoed somewhere in Boomer's heartstrings, but he wasn't exactly sure why. "Oh, of course," he said quickly, the polite gentleman that he was helping her to put on her coat. "Go on, we wouldn't want to inconvenience you."

"I actually don't mind," Butch cut slyly.

Blossom simply rolled her eyes and adjusted her collar. "_Thank_ you, Boomer. For showing me that photograph."

He shrugged. "Brick needs to lighten up."

"Same time next week, Blossy?" Butch asked with a wink and a smirk.

"I'll have to check my schedule. I'll let you know when I can, though. You've got my number, yeah?"

Butch nodded.

"Cool. I'll see you guys later." She zipped up her coat, grabbed her purse and was out the door in that same flurry of orange-red hair.

As soon as the door had shut behind her, Butch leaned on the back two legs of his chair and rested his hands behind his head.

"She so wants me," he smirked at Boomer, who rolled his eyes.

"She so does _not_," said a perturbed Brick as he slammed Butch's chair to the floor with his hands. The photograph was no longer on his person; he had safely tucked it inside one of his novels and placed the novel on a shelf where he knew his brothers would _never_ think to look.

The emerald-eyed brother snorted. "What do you know about women, Brick?" he quipped, combing his fingers through his softly gelled raven hair.

"Enough to know she definitely wasn't interested."

"That's coming from the guy who hasn't had a girlfriend since sixth grade."

It was at that moment did Boomer try to join the conversation, rooting for Team Brick. "At least his sixth grade girlfriend never gave him a black eye."

Again, the parts of Butch's non-bruised skin paled and he shot glaring daggers in Boomer's direction. "I fucking hate you."

Boomer grinned largely and made a kissy face at his brother before dodging the punch the latter threw aimlessly towards him.

"Animals," Brick mumbled under his breath before knocking Butch's chair over, nearly on top of Boomer. He faded away into the shadows before the two even had the chance to wonder what was going on. There was quite a lot on his mind, and most of it had something to with the auburn-haired girl that he could still see trudging through the snow outside the dormitory window.

* * *

_Review, it's good for your soul! :)_


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